


(trying to spit my raps) and get my dick sucked

by covetsubjugation



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Facials, Feminization, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, may god forgive me, sex while high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7511798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covetsubjugation/pseuds/covetsubjugation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jefferson catches him looking. Alex can’t look away fast enough, his mouth too loose to come up with an excuse. His mind is still kinda hazy, but one thought comes through loud and clear. What would it be like to fuck Thomas Jefferson?</p>
            </blockquote>





	(trying to spit my raps) and get my dick sucked

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started off as me being under a lot of stress because all my projects are falling apart, Chris Jackson did something problematic, and my groupmates flaking on me, so this fic is me taking out all my frustrations on Alex. Now, my projects are still falling apart, CJ is still problematic and my groupmates are still dicks but I feel better so.
> 
> Also this was meant to be hamwash at first lol here is Jamilton instead.
> 
> And once again, in case you don't read tags, in this fic, people have sex while they are both high on weed. To the best of my knowledge and research, that is fine??? But if it's not, let me know in the comments, and until then, take this as your official warning for dubcon.

He’s stressed. He is so stressed.

Nothing is working right for him right now, projects are jarring, messages aren’t getting through and deadlines loom ever closer. In addition to that, twitter is blowing up with some not-quite crisis right now.

Lafayette had been quite taken with some celebrity recently, spread his obsession over to Alex and John. But now, in the era where technology is ever advancing, and messages can get passed from person to person faster than lightning, something shady had been dug up and people are lining up to pull down the pedestal.

It’s not that bad, really. He’s not as huge as a fan as Lafayette is, or was. But he can’t deny that this little issue coming right at the heels of quite literally anything else is driving him out of his mind. The cognitive dissonance is strong, and he’s already bucking under the stress of college.

He doesn’t actually want to be on twitter right now, a rarity for him, so he turns off his phone and slides it across the bed, as if doing so can physically separate him from the world. Alex tosses his arm over his eyes, shielding them from the light of the setting sun. He is lying down in his bed, body lit by warm amber light, it should be quite a pretty sight. On any other day, he would taken the opportunity to relax, stretch out and sink into the mattress beneath him; He’s a cat, snoozing in the beautiful glow. But today, all he can think about is twitter, his impending deadlines, unhelpful groupmates, his upcoming rent and on and on and on. He can feel every thread of his sheets, where his fingers rest on the bed, the brush of clothing against his skin, hear his neighbours arguing upstairs, footsteps from the living room as John attempts to comfort a distraught Lafayette.

He’s too present. He doesn’t want to be.

He knows if he asks, or even shows up at Hercules’ dorm, the man wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow, just pass him one of those ever present joints. He could be high within the next five minutes, he thinks to himself, fingers twitching in eagerness. He could be high and much more relaxed, out of his ever racing head, and just not _think_ for one hour.

He’s moving before he realises it, tugging down his creased shirt as he leaves his room. He ignores Lafayette and John on the sofa, feels a slight pang of guilt when he pretends not to hear them call his name. Hercules is only a few doors away, and he cringes at the sound of his footsteps as he walks there. The crowded hallway isn’t helping and each sound thuds against his eardrums. Every person who pushes past him winds his nerves tighter.

Alex doesn’t bother banging the door when he arrives, simply tries the knob and finds it unlocked. He pushes in and sure enough, Hercules is sprawled across his sofa, leisure and luxury woven into his careless posture. The moment he steps through the door, Hercules gives him a lazy wrist flick and he quickly closes the door behind him.

At a distance, it just seems like Hercules is relaxing on his sofa, but as Alex approaches, it becomes clearer that Hercules is high. Already, Alex feels a tiny bit more relaxed, mind working just a little bit slower, everything just a little bit softer. The room is silent, apart from the rap spilling out of the speaker Hercules has set in the corner. The volume is turned down low, so Alex can’t really make out any words, just the heavy beat and a sensual sigh every now and then.

He doesn’t really want to break the silence, so he simply hums in greeting. Hercules returns in kind, before rolling his wrist at the coffee table in front of the sofa. A couple of rolled joints are littered across it and Alex eagerly snatches one up as he sinks down in front of the sofa. His spine presses into the soft couch as he lights up the joint. It’s like he is back in his room, except now instead of being lit up by the sun, his face is illuminated by the small flame of the lighter. He tries not to laugh at his own dumb joke, and instead inhales in the smoke, holds it in and counts. _One, two, three, exhale._

He loses track of time, simply sits there with his back against the coach, head tilted back to stare at the patternless ceiling. He can hear Hercules moving around every now and then, but otherwise he lets himself simply exist. He doesn’t have projects due, he doesn’t have rent to pay, he doesn’t have a constantly vibrating phone, it’s just him and the endless stretch of time.

The sun sets outside, sinks beyond the horizon, and it is probably closer to 8 than it is to sunset when the door opens again. Alex can’t really make out who is at the door, just their silhouette, but it doesn’t matter because the person opens their mouth and identifies themselves before Alex can even gather the focus needed to figure this shit out.

“Oh my God,” comes Thomas Jefferson’s signature drawl from the door, and Alex just groans. Of course, just what he needed at this moment. He can’t stand Jefferson’s accent, let alone the man himself, on a normal day, so if Jefferson expected Alex to be nice to him on a day as shitty as this, he was shit out of luck.

He has said ‘shit’ way too much over the last two minutes.

“Seriously, Hercules?” the man continues complaining as he steps in through the door. A flash of purple catches Alex’s eye, Jefferson is hanging up his coat. “Have you done anything today? Or have you just sat here smoking? Don’t you think you’ve smoked enough?”

Hercules responds with a muffled sound, Alex suspects it translates loosely into “Clearly not enough if I have to listen to this.” He reciprocates, a noise of agreement.

Jefferson startles, clearly he has not seen Alex’s folded slump on the floor. “Oh,” he sneers. In that one word, all the condescension Jefferson holds for him overflows onto the floor. He doesn’t want to deal with this. He is slowly sobering up, and his mind is starting to go into overdrive, reminding him of every fucking responsibility he had been putting off.

“You know weed is just a gateway drug, right?”

The joints on the table are starting to look more appealing by the minute.

“Oh shut up,” Hercules pronounces from the sofa, startling the two of them. He hasn’t said a word the whole time Alex had been here, and sometimes he forgets that Hercules actually has a voice to talk with. And judging by Jefferson’s reaction, he has forgotten too.

Hercules rolls his eyes. “Don’t act so high and mighty-” he punctuated each word with a slow jab in Jefferson’s direction- “like you don’t come home every day and smoke. I’m high but I can still count, Thomas. I can see when I’m down a coupl’a joints.”

Two spots of colour highlight Jefferson’s cheeks; Alex can’t help but snicker. He reaches over, fingers still half clumsy and tosses a joint over to the tall man. He catches it with an easy grace that makes Alex roll his eyes. He lights up his own joint, takes a deep breath and another, waits until he feels as if he can sink through the ground. Through the clouds of smoke, he can see Jefferson doing the same, sinking down to the floor. He keeps his legs tucked under him, a long fingered hand supporting his weight.

They had not turned on the lights in the room, they sit in the near darkness, illuminated by the small lighter and the glow of the speaker in the corner. Jefferson all but disappears in a cloud of smoke, Alex thinks he wouldn’t mind if Jefferson actually disappeared.

Jefferson is another one of his problems, he thinks hazily, noting with some amusement that Fuckin’ Problems is playing in the background. Starting with his irritating drawl. Jefferson attributes it to him spending his teens in France, Alex says the only thing French about him is that he is a French shower and attributes the drawl to him being a dick.

The unfortunate thing about Jefferson is that he is smart, and Alex is talking _very_ smart. The man isn’t as smart as him of course, but his mind is sharp enough that he can keep up with Alex nine times out of ten. He doesn’t come to most lectures, but he is still among the top in the class. Anyone who has ever worked with Jefferson on a project says that he rides them hard and is an unreasonable ass at times but the work submitted is always top notch. He is a worthy competitor, and frankly Alex can’t tell if he is annoyed by Jefferson or attracted to him.

Jefferson looks like the picture of luxury right now, head rolling in slow circles as he cracks his neck to some imperceptible beat. The hand holding the joint is now propped up on a knee, and in the time that Alex was distracted and in his head, his shirt had come unbuttoned. Now, the only thing holding the shirt together is the last button, and the shirt itself has half slipped off his shoulder; Alex can see his exposed chest and abs. He can’t quite look away.

Jefferson catches him looking. Alex can’t look away fast enough, his mouth too loose to come up with an excuse. His mind is still kinda hazy, but one thought comes through loud and clear. _What would it be like to fuck Thomas Jefferson?_

It’s not a question he ponders often, it has come up before but he has never given it serious thought. Now, however, it is as good as a time as any. He eyes Jefferson’s hand again, mentally measures it and how far it could span if it was resting on his hips right now; He traces the defined abs gleaming at him from under the open shirt with his eyes, pictures seeing that but without a white button up in the way. Alex decides he likes the idea.

He meets Jefferson’s eyes again, this time the man gives him a slow lazy smirk. Alex wets his lips, his pants feel uncomfortably tight. He gets up, walks to the room he knows is Jefferson’s, dragging his hand along the wall as he does; He can hear Jefferson getting up and following him.

Behind them, Hercules turns up the music.

*

This isn’t his first time at the rodeo. He has had sex while high before, although he can’t remember who it was with. He knows it was either with Hercules, Lafayette or John, and that’s good enough. But that was quite some time ago, and he had forgotten how _good_ it could be.

The moment the door to Jefferson’s room had closed, Alex had found himself pressed up against it. “Fuck,” he hisses as a warm mouth descends on his neck. He can feel Jefferson sucking a hickey right over his pulse point, swears he can practically hear the sensitive blood capillaries breaking under his skin. His fingers are scrambling, first at the door he is pinned up against, then at Jefferson’s shoulders, pushing the white shirt off. He has forgotten about the last button, so Jefferson’s arms get stuck awkwardly in the shirt. He feels rather than hears the growl Jefferson emits against his neck, and there’s a quick pulse as Jefferson flexes and the button pops off.

He thinks he says “Oh God”, he isn’t really sure, because Jefferson’s arms are now free and his long fingers are tangling up in Alex’s hair and pulling and the flash of pain is going straight to his cock. He can’t stop himself from seeking friction, and even though Jefferson’s groin is pressed against his, it’s not quite enough. He grinds up against him, can feel the heat of Jefferson’s swollen cock against his, hisses through his teeth at the sparking friction.

His hair is being pulled again, and Alex goes with it, tilting his head back. Moans are pouring out of his mouth, as Jefferson sucks another hickey onto his neck again. He definitely has to wear something to cover up the splotches tomorrow. The music outside gets louder; He thinks he can hear The Neighbourhood being played. With all his strength, Alex pushes against Jefferson’s bare shoulders, feels the muscles move under his palms as he manages to reverse their positions. Jefferson slams into the door with a thud.

Alex leans forward and kisses Jefferson, no thinking, he’s moving on autopilot. It’s nothing really, compared to what they were doing just a second ago. It’s barely more than a press of dry lips to dry lips. But then Jefferson reciprocates, puts a lot more bite into the kiss, literally. He nips at Alex’s lips and the kiss turns dirty. Alex has a hand on Jefferson’s chest, thumbing at his nipples, flicking them until he feels them erect under his touch; The other hand presses against the door, giving him leverage, so he isn’t quite putting his full weight on the other man. In comparison, Jefferson has a possessive hand on his ass, kneading away at the flesh with bruising strength, he also has a fistful of hair, tugging sharply everything their teeth knock together.

Alex leans forward more, feels his hair pull where Jefferson has a grip on it, and kisses Jefferson once more before he turns around. Judging by how the other man had been gripping at his ass, he assumes that Jefferson really likes it.

And so he wiggles back, presses his ass flush against Jefferson’s hard cock. He can feel it press between his cheeks, grinds up and down with aching slowly, twisting his hips in time with the music. Two hands have landed on his hips, thumbs resting on his ass, pulling him slightly open. Jefferson gives a hard thrust and his cheeks part with the force of it; His ass wraps around what it can of Jefferson’s cock, the hard bulge nudges gently against his hole. The feeling is amazing, and all he can think about now is having that cock in his ass rather than grinding up against it.

“C’mon,” he pants. “Give it to me.” He thinks Jefferson is going to spin him around, and kiss him again, but instead he feels a hard knock against his knees and he falls down rather painfully. His knees collide with the floor and he winces. When he looks up, Jefferson is now standing in front of him, hard bulge apparent in his jeans, one head threaded through Alex’s hair. His mouth is exactly at the level he needs to be at to suck his cock and Alex finds his mouth watering.

Jefferson raises an eyebrow at him, palming himself through his jeans. “Well?” he seems to ask. Alex doesn’t disappoint, he leans forward, presses his mouth against the clothed dick in front of him and exhales heavily. The denim grows dark with the wet warmth of his mouth; There’s a distinct twitch from beneath the fabric. He looks up at Jefferson from under his eyelashes, smiles flirtatiously. He knows the effect it will have, and he is proven right when he hears the man’s breath hitch, hears a breathy “Sonofa-” before he unbuttons and pulls down Jefferson’s jeans in one quick movement.

The guy isn’t wearing boxers and Alex can feel his own cock twitch at the idea of Jefferson going around commando, the idea of Jefferson leaking straight onto his jeans. Because he is, leaking that is. Jefferson, or well, Thomas, seeing as he is about to suck his cock, is leaking, precum dripping from the slit. He’s so hard, cock flushed almost purple, pointing straight up at the ceiling, and Alex is a go-big-or-go-home kinda guy, so he winks at Thomas and swallows his cock in one go.

His nose is pressed up against warm flesh before he can even realise it himself, the marijuana relaxing his jaw so much, it’s practically nothing, and he can feel the head of Thomas’ cock pressed right up against the back of his throat. There’s a hand on his head for a split second and Alex waits for Jefferson to force him further his cock. But then the hand leaves, is snatched away by the owner, and Alex is left disappointed.

So he pulls back, gross strands of saliva linking his mouth and Thomas’ wet cock. He makes sure to gasp for good measure, acts as if he was struggling to swallow his cock. Jefferson’s hand threads back on his hair and he looks up at him, bites at his lip to really sell it.

“C’mon,” he half begs, hand moving up from its death grip on Jefferson’s thigh to grope at his bones. He loves to hear the sound of Thomas’ breath hitching, he should really start counting how many times he can make the guy do that. “Fuck me up,” Alex pleads. “Fuck me up, fuck my face, fuck my mouth, Jefferson, Thomas, please-” It’s not all an act, he wants Thomas to fuck his face, preferably come on it thereafter. He wants to feel the cum dripping down his face, gluing strands of hair and eyelashes together; He wants to feel owned, he wants to be fucked out of his mind, _why wouldn’t Jefferson cooperate?_

Alex almost sobs in relief when Thomas forces his face down on his cock. It’s exactly what he wants, what he needs. There are hands in his hair, holding him down as Thomas fucks his face, cock sliding in and out of his mouth. And there’s a steady mutter as Thomas does so, Alex can just about hear the man saying, “Yes, naughty bitch. Take it, take that fat fucking dick. Choke on it, you _slut_.”

The rhythm of his pumping hips are growing erratic, he is definitely close. Alex pulls off as best as he can, hand stroking the wet cock in front of him, twisting up and down the shaft. “Come on my face,” he says hoarsely, his voice is going to be a wreck tomorrow. “Come on my face, I want it.” And before Jefferson can argue, Alex tilts forward, maintaining as much eye contact as he can as he gently kisses the head of the red cock. His tongue slips out, licking over the slit, tasting the bitter precum. He wants more, so he opens his mouth again, feels the heavy weight of the cock resting against his tongue; Precum leaks out of the tip, bitterness bursts against his tongue.

“Please,” Alex begs once more before he wraps his lips around the head of the cock and sucks. Jefferson’s stiffens and cum begins to shoot from his cock, landing in Alex’s mouth at first, before he pulls back. White streaks of cum land all over Alex’s face and he moans in contentment, tasting what cum he got in his mouth. It’s not bad, he’s had worse. He moans again at the taste. Finally, he thinks to himself.

*

Thomas pants as his cock finally subsides, sweat is dripping down his forehead and stinging at his eyes. He eyes Alexander in front of him. Face covered in cum, and yet he is still fully dressed; His shirt is damp with sweat and his erection is clearly visible through his sweatpants. His hair is falling out of his bun in messy clumps, he looks like a mess.

He can feel his cock stir pitifully.

Stalking forward, he grabs Alex’s messy face by the chin, swipes over his cum-covered lips with his thumb before pushing it into his mouth. “Suck,” he demands, and Alex does, wide-eyed and eager. The man acts like he can’t get enough, first demanding for him to fuck his face, then for Thomas to come on it, and even now, he is still eagerly lapping up the leftover cum.

“Whore,” Thomas says, almost fondly, and Alex moans as if in agreement. He’s sat back on his knees, one hand palming his cock. Thomas pulls his hand away. “None of that,” he warns and Alex whines. His hips pulse up in the air like he thinks he can get friction that way.

He trails a light hand down Alexander’s obvious reaction, hears the man whimper and push up. “You wanna come, baby girl?” he croons and Alex nods frantically. He had no clue where the baby girl thing came from, but clearly the man doesn’t mind. Alexander would be quite pretty as a girl, Thomas thinks, his hand still lightly stroking over Alex’s cock. He certainly has the hair for it. Speaking of which…

He grabs Alex by the hair, pulls it so Alex has to look up at him. “Are you going to be good?” he asks and Alex nods once more. It can’t be comfortable, he tugs at his own scalp with each movement, but judging by his heavy lids, Thomas would say the guy was enjoying it. He releases Alex. “Strip,” he commands and Alex does, ripping off his shirt and jeans with ferocity. His boxers are pulled down and kicked aside, and Thomas stares at the heavy cock bobbing between his legs. Alexander’s cock isn’t as long as his, but it’s slightly wider. It’s flushed red, and Thomas spies clenching hands behind Hamilton’s back, as if he is trying to stop himself from touching.

He nods at his bed. “Hands and knees,” he orders. Alexander scrambles up, planting himself in the middle of white sheets. From this angle, Thomas can see Alexander’s cock and balls dangling between his spread legs, as well as a peak of Alexander’s hole. Now, it is his hands which are clenching. He thinks about putting his mouth on it, changes thoughts to actions.

He marches forward, clambers on top of the bed and greets Alex with a heavy smack to his ass. It’s more sound than impact, but Alex moans like a whore anyway. It goes straight to his cock, which is already showing interest, even though he came barely half an hour ago. At least he thinks it was half an hour ago, time isn’t concrete when you’re still half high.

“Do you want me to touch you, baby?” he teases, his fingers lightly glancing over Alex’s hole. “Do you want me to fuck you? Slide my fingers into your tight pussy, and then fuck you with my cock? Hmm? Do you want my mouth? You got to let me know, slut.”

Alexander practically sobs. “Please,” he begs, incapable of saying anything else, “Please.”

Thomas leans over to open his bedside drawer, there is lube in it, as well as condoms. He draws them both out, slicks with fingers with lube. Alexander whimpers at the snap of the cap, and Thomas watches him tense in anticipation when he draws nearer. Alex thinks he will get his fingers first, so the yelp that sounds when Thomas licks over his hole is beautiful. He squirms at the wetness, and the yelp appears again at a higher pitch when Thomas fucks into his hole with his tongue.

Alexander tastes clean which Thomas is grateful for. He licks into him, eats him out, feels the man tremble under his palms with every action. When the man is finally looser, Thomas pushes his fingers into him without any warning. His other hand has found his now hard dick and he strokes himself, spreading the leaking wetness up and down. He groans in tandem with Alex.

He makes sure to avoid his prostate, makes sure to leave Alex wanting. When Alexander is bent over, face pressed into his sheets, each cry growing progressively louder. then does Thomas finally relent. He pulls his fingers out and slicks up his coat. But he loves to be cruel, so he teases at Alexander’s hole with the head of his cock, lets it catch at the rim.

“Beg,” he whispers into his ear, “beg for me to fuck your pussy, you naughty little bitch.” And Alexander obliges beautifully, tears almost streaming down his face as he implores, “Please, Thomas, please, fuck my pussy, fuck my wet cunt. I’m so wet, I’m so ready for you, please, please, please-”

His pleading cuts off suddenly as Thomas bottoms out in one push, choking on his words. Thomas had made sure to hit his prostate on the very first try. Alexander begs prettily, he says to himself, but his need to come himself hits him like a train and he finds himself pounding away into Alexander’s ass.

He can’t really talk, Alex’s ass tight as sin around his cock. He can barely think past the tight heat, vaguely he can hear himself muttering, “So good, so good, your ass is so _good_.” Hamilton is no better, breathless gasps escaping his mouth with every thrust.

Sweat is dripping down his body, he can feel it pooling between their two bodies and orgasm is gathering deep in his balls. He grabs Alex tight by the hips, fucks into him harder and harder, rejoices in the slap of skin against skin. “Oh fuck,” he grunts. “I’m going to come, I’m going to come,” and he grabs at Alexander’s cock, jerks him off in time to his thrusts.

The smaller man cries out, and he spills over Thomas’ hands right as he hits his orgasm too. Alex collapses down and Thomas follows suit, cock still pulsing into the condom as he falls onto the bed, struggling to get his breath back. He can feel Alex panting, can feel his gaze on him, as he calms down.

When he finally gets enough of his senses back, he fumbles for Alex’s shirt, cleans off the both of them. Alex is still quiet, staring back at him with a quiet considering look. He feels vaguely awkward, which is ridiculous, seeing where his dick has been for the last hour or so. “Are you still high?” he finally asks and Alex shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure we fucked it out,” the guy jokes, but his face is straight, no humour whatsoever, as he turns away.

Thomas wants to offer for him to stay, wants to say he can sleep here, but he isn’t sure how to venture the subject without making it weirder. So he keeps quiet as Alex dresses, doesn’t say a word as the man steals one of his shirt and leaves. He feels pretty weird, hollow somehow, the look of consideration that Alex had given him echoing in his head as he huddles down in his bed and breathes in the scent of sex.

“Bye, Alex,” he says to the departing figure. He doesn’t answer. 

*

John scowls when he meets Alex at the door.

“You reek,” he says. “Were you smoking weed?” 

Alex glances back at the door down the hall. It is closed now, but the thoughts and memories still follow. “Yeah,” he says absentmindedly. 

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> May God forgive me.
> 
> Does that ending count as angst? It should, it is 1am and I am Tired.
> 
> Also, weed is very very illegal here, I have never smoked it in my life (but I want to wait what who said that). Stress is killing me.
> 
> If you know me irl, I never wrote this, please don't discuss this with me ever. If you are from the gc, hello! Look at my sin. If you're from the government, I have never taken drugs recreationally before, please don't arrest me.
> 
> Title comes from clipping's "loud". The thirst for Daveed is real ngl, don't show this to him.
> 
> My tumblr is [bisexualexhamilton](http://bisexualexhamilton.tumblr.com), see you next time.


End file.
